Hogwarts : Max Level Unforgivable Curse

"Would Dumbledore notice something if I were alone with him?"

As he tucked the envelope away, Dylan pondered silently.

In the two weeks since the school year began, he had been visiting various professors' offices daily, yet no one had discovered that he had already mastered the six major dark arts.

Dylan suspected this was due to the effects of his achievement rewards.

He had previously completed two achievements.

One allowed him to prevent others from indirectly tracing the magical traces he left.

The other enabled him to cast dark magic without any negative emotions, which evidently included the three Unforgivable Curses.

This meant he could cast the Killing Curse with a smile.

Since there were no negative emotions involved, anyone who might suspect him of using dark magic would first doubt themselves.

After all, how could someone with no trace of negative emotions possibly master advanced dark magic?

To anyone who saw him, Dylan was just a diligent, eager-to-learn, and well-behaved child!

This was the impression Dylan had left on nearly every professor he had encountered.

Naturally, no one questioned whether he had mastered dark magic, which had made him bolder and less anxious than he had been at the beginning.

However, other professors were one thing, and Dumbledore was another.

So far, he had not had any one-on-one interactions with Dumbledore.

He wasn't sure if the legendary wizard of the magical world would notice something amiss during a close, private encounter.

"Ah, well, I doubt Dumbledore needs me to personally thank him, right?"

To be safe, Dylan decided to avoid any unnecessary one-on-one time with the old headmaster.

The man was already so old and still hadn't retired. He was busy day in and day out, outsmarting Voldemort, taking care of a bunch of troublesome kids, and even worrying about whether to raise the salaries of his staff.

How could he possibly have time to deal with more interruptions?

Dylan decided that, in the spirit of respecting the elderly, he would focus his energy and time on his own studies.

"Today, I still have a chapter of potions to read, and I need to look into divination. Besides, I've been reading about the similarities between transfiguration and summoning spells, so I should get to that as well."

Dylan felt there were far too many books waiting for his attention.

If he didn't hurry, he wouldn't be able to satisfy them all.

"Ah!"

Just then, Neville let out a yelp.

Dylan's thoughts were interrupted, and he turned to look.

Neville was holding a glowing Remembrall in his hand.

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

The Remembrall turning red meant Neville had forgotten something important.

But judging by Neville's furrowed brows and troubled expression, it was clear that even with the Remembrall's reminder, he couldn't recall what he had forgotten.

"Who gave you that Remembrall?" Ron asked.

"My grandmother sent it to me," Neville replied, clutching the Remembrall in one hand.

With his other hand, he rubbed his chubby cheeks, his brows knitted together, his eyes squinting, and his head tilted slightly back as he tried to dig through his memory.

"But what did I forget?"

Seeing Neville's face turn red from the effort, Dylan pursed his lips, took the Remembrall from Neville's hand, and stuffed it into his bag.

"Alright, Neville, if you can't remember, it must not be important. If it were important, you'd remember when the time comes."

Neville blinked. "But what if I'm not prepared when something happens?"

"How do you know that what you're forgetting requires preparation?" Dylan countered. "You've already forgotten, haven't you?"

"(υυ)…" Neville looked slightly dazed.

Dylan patted his shoulder and then handed him a glass of milk. "I know all the homework assigned by every professor. I doubt there's anything more important than that."

Neville nodded, his round face agreeing. "That makes sense."

Soon, Neville put the matter aside and quickly started eating his breakfast.

After the meal, the group got up to head to class.

When Dylan sat down in the front row, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

"Wait, what Neville forgot… could it be…?"

Before he could finish the thought, the professor walked in, and Dylan immediately switched to learning mode.

After class, he followed the professor as usual, asking questions.

By the time the afternoon flying lesson rolled around, Dylan and Harry, along with the others, gathered on the open grounds in front of the castle.

The Slytherin first-years were also there.

Dylan looked ahead and saw nearly thirty broomsticks laid out in two rows on the ground.

"Huh? I feel like I've forgotten something."

Madam Hooch approached from a distance.

As soon as he saw the professor, Dylan switched back into learning mode.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Now, each of you, stand to the left of a broomstick. Quickly, quickly!"

Madam Hooch had short, gray hair slicked back, with sharp facial features and thick, slightly raised eyebrows.

As soon as she arrived, she briskly directed the students to get into position.

The first-years, who had been loosely grouped, quickly formed two lines.

As the first student stepped up to a broomstick, the others from their house followed suit.

Dylan stood with Neville and Harry.

He glanced down at the broomstick at his feet.

The wood was dark and worn, the bristles uneven, some even charred and broken. The binding ropes were loose, and parts of the tail were missing.

"…"

He seriously doubted whether this broomstick could even fly without falling apart mid-air.

Or worse…

"Can this broomstick even make me fly?"

Would it even get off the ground?

"Good! Now, extend your left hand over the broomstick and shout, 'Up!'"

"Up!"

The first-years shouted in unison.

Most of the students succeeded on the first try.

After Dylan shouted, the battered broomstick actually jumped into his hand, though he ended up grabbing the tail end.

"To learn to fly, posture is key! But before that, you need to remember the essentials of flying and, most importantly, the safety precautions!"

Madam Hooch's voice was hoarse but powerful, carrying a commanding tone.

(End of Chapter)